


Nothing Hurts

by alanna_the_lionheart



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Bathing/Washing, Bruises, Caring, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Love, One Shot, Pain, Romance, Scars, Short & Sweet, Tattoos, Tenderness, Touching, arrow season 4, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 14:17:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4880014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alanna_the_lionheart/pseuds/alanna_the_lionheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver gets hurt on a mission. He’s banged up badly, but nothing’s broken, and Felicity insists on taking him home, where she decides to draw him a bath. For the first time in a long time, Oliver lets someone else take care of him, and Felicity comforts him and heals him in more ways than one. Based off of that video on Stephen’s Facebook page where he’s sporting fake bruises after filming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Hurts

**Author's Note:**

> Rating is a mild M for descriptions of nudity, no sex.

** **

_**(banner by @pleasantfanandstudent)** _

 

**Nothing Hurts**

 

_“What the hell **happened** out there?!”_

 

Oliver hears her before he sees her. Her voice is high pitched, her words shaky, and she sounds like she’s panicking. He wants to get to her; to calm her and reassure her. He tries to pull himself out of the dark of unconsciousness, but he can’t. Not yet, anyway. Instead, he listens closely as Laurel answers her.

 

_“It was an accident, Felicity. Darhk’s men had us pinned down. There were too many of them.”_

_“One of them got the jump on him. I tried to get to him, but I was too late.”_

_“It’s not your fault, Thea.”_

 

John’s here, too. And his sister. And of course Felicity. They’re all here. But where’s _here_? And what the hell happened to him? The last thing he remembers is fighting Damien Darhk’s men on a rooftop. After that, everything’s blank.

 

_“No, it’s not anyone’s fault. I’m sorry. It’s just…he could have died out there!”_

 

Oliver struggles harder against the darkness, desperate to wake up; to show her that everything’s fine, that he’s okay. He can’t stand hearing her so upset.

 

_“Felicity-”_

_“Don’t tell me to calm down, John, I can’t! The man I love fell off a freaking rooftop! ‘Calm’ is the **last** thing I can be right now!”_

_“Felicity, he’s waking up.”_

“Oliver? Oliver, can you hear me?”

 

He feels a gentle touch on his arm, one he would know anywhere. Oliver groans, and finally, _finally_ , he can open his eyes.

 

As the room slowly comes into focus, Oliver takes in his surroundings.

 

The Green Arrow cave. That’s where he is. He has no clue how he got here, but they’re all here with him. Laurel, Thea, Diggle, and.…

 

“Felicity?”

 

“I’m here. I’m right here.”

 

She touches his shoulder and grips it tightly, meaning to reassure him.

 

That’s when the pain hits him.

 

Hard. And fast.

 

Oliver shouts and flinches away from her, falling onto his side, which only makes the pain worse.

 

It hurts. Everything hurts. Every inch of his body is on fire.

 

Through the haze of agony, he vaguely hears her apologizing, asking him where it hurts.

 

_Everywhere._  God, it hurts _everywhere._ But he doesn't tell her that, because he doesn't want to scare her. Instead he grits his teeth and tries to stop his body from shaking. It’s a tall order, though. It feels like he got hit by a truck, which is, sadly, a feeling he knows all too well.

 

“What…what happened?” he grinds out through clenched teeth, staring down at Diggle’s feet and trying to convince the room to stop spinning.

 

“One of Darhk’s men pushed you off the roof,” Thea answers quietly, and Oliver finds the strength to look up at her. “I tried to stop him, but I wasn’t fast enough. I’m sorry, Ollie. I should have-”

 

“Don’t apologize, Speedy. It wasn’t your fault.”

 

Thea stares at him long and hard. Finally, she gives him a small smile and a slight nod.

 

Oliver rolls over onto his back again. His eyes meet Felicity’s, and in them he finds a fire he didn’t expect to find considering how terrified she sounded minutes before. She’s not trembling anymore. She looks strong, resolved, like nothing could shake her, and her eyes soften as she stares back at him.

 

She’s staying strong for _him_ , and Oliver knows it. She doesn’t realize that he heard her before, and she’s forcing herself to remain calm now, because she doesn’t want him to see her break. She doesn’t want him to worry, about himself or about her.

 

He forces himself to smile at her through the pain, and he’s rewarded with a smile in return, and Oliver finds himself marveling at how easy it is to fall deeper in love with her.

 

“Help me sit up?” he asks her quietly, and Felicity’s mouth drops open in surprise for just a second before she nods. She grabs his left hand in her own and puts her right hand behind his back. And then slowly, gently, she helps him up.

 

Oliver’s body screams in protest but he bites his tongue, a small gasp the only indication that he’s hurting. She flinches slightly at the sound, and a whisper of his name from her lips makes some of his pain go away.

 

Once he’s sitting up, she holds his hand in both of hers, and he grips them in a tight squeeze of gratitude. He quickly assesses the damage to his body while she squeezes his hands in return.

 

He can practically feel the bruises forming all over his body. His legs, his torso, his back and chest and arms. Especially his arms. Fuck, his arms are killing him. As he sits quietly, an image forms in his mind, and he slowly begins to remember what happened.

 

The roof. The one they were fighting on. One of Darhk’s men got the jump on him and shoved him off. There were fire escapes. A lot of them. He hit every single one on his way down. Then he crashed into an open dumpster (that most likely saved his life) and passed out.

 

Oliver lets out a sigh. Everything hurts like a bitch, but he silently thanks whoever will listen that nothing is broken. There won’t be any irreparable damage. Just an awful lot of bruising.

 

Oliver looks around at all of them, staring at him quietly. Finally, he turns back to Felicity.

 

“I’m okay,” he whispers, squeezing her hands once more. “I’ll be fine. Nothing a few days rest won’t heal.”

 

He can feel her whole body relaxing, and she lets out a sigh as she reaches up, cups his face between her hands, and kisses him tenderly in front of everyone.

 

It’s a testament to how freaked out everyone really is that no pretends to be grossed out like they usually would.

 

When she finally pulls away, Oliver meets her gaze and finds that fire in her eyes is burning even brighter than before.

 

“Okay,” she responds. “Then I’m taking you home.”

 

* * *

 

With Diggle’s help, Felicity carefully maneuvers Oliver out of his Green Arrow suit and into a pair of workout pants and his green hoodie. Oliver doesn't protest the help; getting out of the tight leather can be hard on a _good_ day.

 

Diggle stays behind with Laurel and Thea so they can all patch themselves up. The three of them have their own wounds to nurse, thankfully none of them serious. The team’s morale took more of a hit than anything. Most of Darhk’s men got away in the team’s haste to make sure Oliver was all right, and even though they know that Oliver’s okay, they’re all still pretty shaken up.

 

As for Felicity….

 

Felicity bundles Oliver up into her car, and she drives them home.

 

* * *

 

Oliver insists that he can get up to the loft just fine. Except of course today is the day the elevator’s broken, and after three flights of stairs, he stumbles. Felicity insists on helping him up the last two flights, her shoulder under his arm and her arm around his back.

 

When they reach their floor, a memory comes back to her, and she can’t contain the laugh that escapes her.

 

“What’s so funny?” Oliver asks, looking down at her in confusion.

 

“Nothing. It’s just…remember that time you hobbled down the stairs in the old Arrow cave and I had to catch you?”

 

Oliver smiles.

 

"Yeah. You asked if this was really all muscle,” he responds, gesturing with his free hand to his body, and he turns back to her with a smirk.

 

Felicity grins playfully up at him. “Well, now I can fully attest to the fact that this is _definitely_ all muscle.”

 

Oliver laughs, and the sound of his laughter makes her heart feel lighter than it has since his comms shut off that night and she thought she’d lost him.

 

Felicity finds herself laughing, too, and she doesn’t stop laughing until they reach the door of the loft, where she lets go of Oliver to fumble around in her pocket for the keys.

 

Once they’re in the lock, she pushes the door open, grabs his hand, and leads him inside. She shuts the door behind them and pulls him gently toward the couch.

 

“Sit,” she orders him, and he sits down slowly and without question. He sighs in relief as he leans back against the couch, and as he closes his eyes Felicity thanks whoever will listen that he’s still with her.

 

She bends down and kisses his forehead gently, and he leans into her touch with a sigh, reaching up with one hand to caress her shoulder: one of his favorite places to touch her. Felicity cups his head between her hands, running her fingers through his hair, down over his stubbled cheeks and the vague beginnings of a beard he’s started growing since they moved back to Star City.

 

Then she pulls her lips away from his forehead and kisses him properly. She moves her hands down his neck, ghosting her fingers over his chest, over his shoulders, and around his back. He nips her bottom lip gently between his teeth, and Felicity sighs against his mouth.

 

Finally, they pull away for air. She sits down next to him on the couch and then, as lightly and as carefully as she can, she pulls him close to her and hugs him. Just as lightly, and just as carefully, Oliver reaches up and hugs her back.

 

She loses track of how long she sits on that couch just holding him. Listening to his gentle breathing, feeling his heart beat against her own, reveling in the fact that he’s still with her.

 

In the end, Oliver pulls away first, laying back against the couch with a quiet groan and closing his eyes.

 

They sit quietly, and Felicity watches as Oliver shifts slightly, unable to hide the furrowing of his brow when he does it.

 

He’s still in pain.

 

She would do _anything_ to make that pain go away.

 

Then an idea hits her. It’s something her mother did for her once: long ago, when she was a little girl, run over by another girl's bicycle because she just wanted to play with the big kids.

 

“Stay here,” she tells him quietly, and Oliver opens his eyes and frowns at her.

 

“Felicity?”

 

“Stay here,” she tells him again, standing up from the couch. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

 

Oliver mumbles out a quiet “okay” as she heads upstairs to start a bath.

 

* * *

 

Ten minutes later, Felicity’s dressed in a camisole and sleep shorts. Her makeup is off and her teeth are brushed. She thinks she could probably use a shower, but she can take one in the morning.

 

Tonight is about Oliver.

 

She turns off the water in the tub, dumps in a few more spoonfuls of Epsom salt, and heads back downstairs.

 

Oliver’s still on the couch, and she’s afraid he’s fallen asleep, but when her feet hit the living room floor he opens his eyes.

 

“Bedtime?” he asks her quietly, and Felicity smiles at him.

 

“No. _Bath_ time.”

 

* * *

 

Felicity helps him off the couch and up the stairs. He doesn’t argue with her when she insists on helping him, and not just because he actually needs the help. She wants to help him – _needs_ to help him – and Oliver’s never been one to deny her anything.

 

When they make it to the bathroom, Oliver looks down into the large tub and grins.

 

“I remember the last time we took a bath in this tub,” he says playfully, turning to her. “It was… _fun_ ,” he finishes with a smirk, and Felicity laughs softly.

 

“It was,” she agrees. “But this time it’s just for you.”

 

Oliver nods his head and smiles. “Probably for the best,” he responds, unzipping his hoodie and attempting to shrug it off. Unfortunately, the movement twists his sore shoulders, and he groans in pain, muscles tensing.

 

“Here,” she says quickly. “Let me help you.”

 

And so Oliver lets her undress him.

 

She’s undressed him in all kinds of ways. Quickly, and slowly. Burning with desire, and hot with anger. Carefully, and recklessly.

 

She’s undressed him tenderly and lovingly before, too…but this is different. There’s always been lust and passion behind her touch, and now there’s nothing but a desire to comfort him. To nurture him, and care for him. To show him how much she loves him.

 

She slips her hands carefully down his arms, sliding the sleeves of the hoodie down and off his shoulders. She carefully tugs the cuffs off his wrists one at a time, and the hoodie falls to the floor.

 

She bends over and slides his pants and his boxers down at the same time, slowly and gently, and he feels naked in more ways than one. He’s open to her, willing to let her do what she wants, willing to let her take charge. He feels vulnerable in a way he never has before.

 

But it’s not a bad thing. Far from it.

 

As he steps out of his pants and lets her help him into the tub, his heart aches with gratitude and love for her.

 

Her hands move under his arms, and he lets her help him down into the water.

 

He leans back slowly, rests his head against the towel she’s placed there, and closes his eyes. The water feels warm, and he can smell the salt she must have put in it. He allows himself to relax as the warm salty water gently pulls the tension and the pressure and the aches from his body.

 

The water’s calming, Felicity’s touch is soothing, and Oliver has never felt safer in his life.

 

He sighs contentedly, and when Felicity places a warm, soapy washcloth against his chest, Oliver nods slightly, surrenders control…and he lets her take care of him.

 

* * *

 

Felicity washes him slowly and tenderly, marveling at how willingly he’s letting her do this. Oliver’s never been one to ask for help, and he’s not always inclined to accept it when it’s offered. But as she rubs the cloth soothingly over his sore muscles, he sits quietly and calmly and he lets her.

 

She starts with his chest, lingering longer than necessary over his heart so she can feel it beating strongly beneath her hand. Then she works her way up to his left shoulder and down his left bicep. She washes him carefully here, mindful of the dark bruises she can already see forming up and down his toned arms. He moves with her, eyes still closed as he lifts his arm out of the tub so she can reach it without getting soaked. She rubs the cloth gently over the back of his hand, then his palm, and then between his fingers, smiling when he laughs because he’s ticklish there.

 

When she’s done, she pulls his hand to her mouth and kisses it gently, and Oliver sighs in contentment. She puts his arm back into the water, then stands up and moves to the other side of the tub so she can clean his right shoulder. Once again, he lifts his arm up for her, and once again he smiles when she rubs the cloth between his fingers, lingering a bit longer this time because she loves watching him smile.

 

Felicity takes her time. She moves carefully over the firm, toned muscles of his stomach. She takes the washcloth out of the water so she can apply more soap, and then she starts down his right thigh. She bypasses his slight erection, and he doesn’t protest, because they both know this isn’t the time. She washes his calf, and the top of his foot, and she pauses at his toes. If he’s ticklish between his fingers, it’s nothing compared to bottom of his foot and the space between his toes, and if she teases him now it might do more harm than good.

 

Instead she gets up and moves back to the left side of the tub, and Oliver laughs softly.

 

“ _Definitely_ for the best,” he whispers, and Felicity smiles as she repeats the process on his left leg.

 

When she’s done, she applies more soap to the washcloth and gently caresses the front and sides of his neck. Oliver moans slightly, and Felicity smirks. He’s even more sensitive there than _she_ is, which is saying an awful lot. Then she moves the cloth carefully around to the back of his neck and waits, silently asking for permission.

 

Oliver opens his eyes for the first time since he got into the tub, and it’s then that she notices the tears in his eyes. Felicity’s heart clenches in her chest.

 

“I don’t have to-”

 

“ _Please_ ,” Oliver begs her, and his voice breaks just the slightest, and she realizes with a shock that his unshed tears are not tears of pain…but tears of love.

 

Felicity swallows the lump in her throat and nods.

 

Oliver puts his hands on the edge of the tub and sits forward, wincing slightly, and Felicity wishes she’d stopped at his feet. But then she rubs the washcloth against the back of his neck and Oliver lets out a long sigh. His muscles visibly unclench, and she rubs the top of his neck more firmly. Oliver’s grip on the edge of the tub loosens, and she moves on to the back of his right shoulder. She rubs a bit harder there than she’s rubbed anywhere else, knowing from past experience how much he carries his tension in his upper back. She told him once that it means he places too heavy a burden on himself – that he carries too much responsibility and blame and guilt on his own shoulders – and as she rubs the knots out of his shoulder now, she knows it to be true.

 

When she’s done, she moves down his right side, lingering on the burn mark on his lower back, which he once told her was from a bout of torture he endured in Russia. She stops for just a second on the curve of his butt before moving up the other side. She rubs firmly at the knot in his left shoulder; the left shoulder that once bore a dragon tattoo but now bears clean white skin.

 

It took six sessions with a tattoo removal artist to get rid of it, and Felicity sat by his side for every single one.

 

_“This isn’t a tattoo, Oliver. It’s a scar.”_

_“You’re right.”_

 

_“I am?”_

_“You’re right. I’ve been carrying around the weight of Shado’s death for too long…and I don’t want to anymore.”_

_“I think I know someone who can help with that.”_

 

Felicity smiles at the memory, and she lets the cloth sink to the bottom of the tub. Then she bends over and kisses Oliver’s shoulder, right where the tattoo used to be. Oliver’s breath hitches in his throat. She can feel his body shaking under her lips, and as she pulls away her heart skips a beat when she realizes that he’s crying softly.

 

“ _Oliver_ ,” she whispers soothingly. She wraps her arms around him from the side, not caring that he’s soaking wet, and she kisses him on the cheek. He’s trembling now, and she wraps her arms around him tighter and buries her face in his neck.

 

“Felicity.”

 

He draws her name out, saying it in that special way that only he can say it, and she can hear the desperation in his voice. He reaches up with shaking hands and grips her arms, squeezing so tightly it hurts, but she doesn’t complain.

 

“It’s okay,” she reassures him. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

 

Oliver tries to turn to face her, but he turns too quickly, the movement pulling at his sore body, and he gasps in pain.

 

“I’m here,” she soothes him. She runs one hand gently along his right shoulder and the other down his side, where she rests it atop the scar left from the sword that almost killed him on that mountaintop. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

 

Oliver nods, and he turns to her again, slower this time. Felicity scoots in closer on knees that have long since fallen asleep. She reaches up, pressing on his back with one hand and cradling his head with the other. She places a gentle kiss against his hair, lowers his head to her chest, and holds him to her as he lets himself go.

 

* * *

 

Oliver’s not sure how long he sits in that tub crying in her arms. He’s not even sure why he started crying in the first place. But she doesn’t judge him, or question him, or say anything other than “it’s okay” and “I’ve got you” and “you’re safe.” She doesn’t do anything except hold him, comfort him, and reassure him.

 

In time, the tears stop. The trembling and the shaking stops. Oliver pulls away from her slowly, and she helps him lean against the back of the tub again.

 

Oliver rests his head against the towel and closes his eyes, and he’s amazed to find that he actually feels _better_. He’s tired, but it’s a _good_ kind of tired. The kind of tired you feel after a long day of hard, rewarding work. The kind of tired you feel when you finally let go of something you’ve been holding onto for too long.

 

Oliver lets out a long, slow sigh, and he concentrates on the feel of the water once more. He concentrates on the feeling of his hand held fondly in both of hers. He lets the water sap away what’s left of his pain, and he finds a sense of calm he hasn’t felt since the last night the two of them spent alone together in their own house.

 

Oliver lets the warmth of the water and the reassurance of her presence soothe him, and in no time at all he’s asleep.

 

* * *

 

  
Felicity sits on the bathroom floor and watches him rest. Eventually her legs fall asleep, and she shifts as carefully as possible so as not to wake him.

 

After what feels like an hour but is really only half of one according to the clock on the wall, a small smile lights up Oliver’s face, and she knows he’s dreaming. Oliver’s always had a tendency to fall into dreams quicker than most people, and she wonders what he’s seeing. Whatever it is, he’s happy. Felicity feels tears rise in her eyes. He’s so peaceful and so calm and so _beautiful_ , and her heart aches in her chest at the thought that he’s _hers_.

 

She’s loath to wake him, but eventually the water grows cold, and she knows he can’t sleep here forever.

 

She lets go of his hand and touches his shoulder, shaking it gently.

 

“Hey. Wake up, sleepyhead.”

 

Oliver sighs and turns away from her.

 

“Five more minutes?” he mumbles sleepily, and Felicity would swear she can feel her heart literally melting.

 

“The water’s freezing, Oliver. You have a nice warm bed to go to, and a loving girlfriend whose legs fell asleep twenty minutes ago.”

 

Oliver opens his eyes and turns to her with a smile.

 

“I’ll never get tired of hearing you say the word ‘girlfriend.’”

 

Felicity smiles back at him. “And I’ll never get tired of saying it. Now let’s get you to bed.”

 

Oliver grins at her lewdly, and Felicity rolls her eyes.

 

“You know what I mean,” she says with a laugh. “Come on.”

 

Felicity helps him carefully out of the tub. She leaves his clothes in a pile on the floor, wraps a towel around his waist, and leads him to their bedroom.

 

When she starts to dry him off, he doesn’t protest. He lifts his arms when she needs him to, and when she gets down to his legs he shifts them apart. Once his body’s dry she rubs the towel through his hair a few times, and when she pulls away she purposefully leaves it sticking out in all directions.

 

“I never got a chance to wash your hair,” Felicity laments, running her fingers through his dry, messy locks. Oliver smiles at her lovingly as he attempts to put his hair back into some kind of order.

 

“Next time,” he assures her, and the promise in his voice fills her with happiness and makes her stomach flutter. She bites her lip shyly, then goes to the dresser for a pair of boxers.

 

She dresses him the same way she undressed him: tenderly and carefully. She adjusts the boxers on his hips and lets her hands linger against his stomach. She moves her fingers slowly up his chest, affectionately touching each one of his scars. When she reaches the Bratva tattoo on his chest, she kisses it gently.

 

Oliver sighs and leans into her. He wraps his arms around her and rests his face against her neck, and she wraps her arms around him in kind. He ghosts his lips against her neck, and she gasps as a shiver courses through her.

 

Oliver keeps his lips pressed against her neck, and he only pulls away long enough to whisper three words.

 

“I love you.”

 

Felicity kisses his chest and whispers her own words against him

 

“I love you more.”

 

“Not possible,” Oliver mumbles sleepily, and she smiles. He’s going to fall asleep on his feet soon.

 

She reaches behind her, pulls his arms from around her back, and rests his hands on her hips. Then she grips his face and angles his head down for a quick kiss, pouring all the love she feels for him into it in an attempt to prove him wrong.

 

Then she pulls away, grabs his hands, and leads him to bed.

 

They climb in together, and she lays down next to him, afraid that she’ll hurt him if she gets too close. But as Oliver settles onto his back, he pulls her against his side and rests her head on his chest, wrapping his arm around her.

 

“Doesn’t that hurt?” she asks him quietly.

 

Oliver leans over just enough to kiss the top of her head.

 

“As long as you’re with me, nothing hurts.”

 

Within five minutes, they’re both fast asleep.

 

_…the end…_

**Author's Note:**

> Not gonna lie, I cried while writing this one. I couldn't help it. I really enjoyed writing it, and I hope you enjoyed reading it, too.


End file.
